


Don't Have to Face This Alone

by Ormspryde



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Due to the Dead, M/M, Yuri never stays where you put him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7598377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ormspryde/pseuds/Ormspryde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven has to visit old battlegrounds - but fortunately for him, he doesn't have to do it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Have to Face This Alone

Raven faced the sunset that colored Mount Temza red, his eyes unseeing, his mind far away.  It was over now, everything he and his companions had set out to and, for now, everything was well with the world.  And...

  
He was still trying to figure out what that mean to him, personally.  Sure, he'd come a long way - a _long_ way - since he'd met his first death out there in the dust, but in some ways, he'd always carry this battlefield in his soul.  It would be hard not to.

  
It would dishonor the dead not to.

He heard footsteps in the gravel trail behind him, and he turned his head just far enough to see.  It was Yuri, mounting the hill in a casual lope.

'Thought I told ya ta stay on the Fiertia,' the archer groused, though if he was honest with himself, he was glad to have been disobeyed.  It always seemed easier to face this when Yuri was with him.  Hell, everything seemed easier to face - even living.

'You know I'm no good at following orders, old man.'  The youth sidled up behind him, resting his chin on a convenient shoulder.

Raven smiled as a pair of strong arms wrapped loosely around him, and he relented sooner than he'd intended to, leaning into the touch.  'Heh, yer not much good at stayin' put, that's fer damn sure.'

'Don't pretend you don't love it.'

The long-haired swordsman was good at disguising his concern as a deluge of general smart-assery, but Raven knew better by now than to take him at face value.  'All right, then I won't.'

Gods, what would he have ever done without this man?

In lieu of trying think of an answer to that question, which never ended well, he reached into one of the pockets in his purple coat, pulling out a slim glass bottle.  'Here's to us, guys,' he said, and his voice wasn't quite steady, but that was okay.  Behind him, the youth murmured agreement.

Raven took a drink, the honey whiskey burning his throat on the way down, and poured the rest of the bottle into the dust, a gift for the dead.  The man behind him was a steadying presence that he would never have admitted needing.

When he was finished, he took a deep breath, and it seemed to him that he could just catch the faintest scent of fire lilies in the still air.


End file.
